


Help me Obi-wan Kenobi. You're my only Ho.

by kira892



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, mild sheith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 02:44:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11522877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kira892/pseuds/kira892
Summary: “Is…Is he not wearing anything under that skirt? And what the hell, are those nipple piercings real?” Lance mutters out of the corner of his mouth.Pidge is the only one who hears him, or at least is the only one to not pretend she didn’t hear him. She rolls her eyes and nudges him with an elbow. Her face is suspiciously red. But not nearly as red as Shiro’s who  is really doing a commendable job with getting stuff done and acting like everything is normal and he isn’t standing in front of his team in nothing but a silver plated loin cloth.In which I commissioned art of Shiro in a slave Leia outfit and wrote a fic to go along with it.





	Help me Obi-wan Kenobi. You're my only Ho.

**Author's Note:**

> This utterly perfect piece of art is drawn by the talented [Red_Jelly_Soda](https://twitter.com/Red_Jelly_Soda)

It was a small band of Unilu rogues, ill-intentioned but grossly incompetent so it’s no surprise that by the time they get there to rescue Shiro, the place is already in flames and Shiro is in the middle of a throng of miscreants, looking more annoyed than in any actual danger as he sends more dirtbags to join their bruised or unconscious comrades on the ground.

Still though, all four of them had paused at the sight and are still mostly frozen now, staring while trying desperately not to, at their leader and his interesting wardrobe. Or lack thereof.

Shiro is being his typical competent leaderly self, telling them something along the lines of looking after civilians. It’s really hard to concentrate on what he’s saying when one is also trying to decide where to look…or not to look?, the latter being especially difficult because there is just _so much_ right there to look at.

Keith is going with a direct approach, gaze laser-focused on Shiro’s face like a sniper’s scope. He’s not even blinking. Hunk’s eyes are jumping all over the place, looking like he’s seconds away from squeaking and covering them with his hands and if there were any doubts about the breadth of Lance’s interests, they’re completely obliterated now, because the shameless way he’s staring at Shiro’s abs is definitely outside the confines of strict heterosexuality.

“Is…Is he not wearing anything under that skirt? And what the hell, are those nipple piercings _real_?” He mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

Pidge is the only one who hears him, or at least is the only one to not pretend she didn’t hear him. She rolls her eyes and nudges him with an elbow. Her face is suspiciously red. But not nearly as red as Shiro’s who is really doing a commendable job with getting stuff done and acting like everything is normal and he isn’t standing in front of his team in nothing but a silver plated loin cloth.

“….Now?”

It takes them all a tick too long to realize Shiro is done speaking and while barely having any idea what most of the orders are, none of the other paladins are brave enough to ask Shiro to repeat himself. Shiro manages to not sigh and put a hand to his face when they jump and scatter in different directions but just barely. Keith hangs behind, quickly ripping the cloak off of an unconscious Unilu nearby and handing it to Shiro.

“Are you okay?” he asks, dutifully looking away when one of the flimsy silver clasps keeping the skirt fastened around his hips (clearly made to be decorative and not functional) comes undone and Shiro scrambles to hold it up. Keith keeps his eyes averted and obediently holds the cloak around Shiro like a curtain as he snaps the chain dangling from the collar around his neck and uses it as a makeshift belt.

“I don’t think I’ll be looking anyone in the eye for at least a week but other than that? I’m great.” Shiro sighs, taking the cloak from Keith and wrapping it around his bare shoulders with quick, jerky movements.

Keith looks sympathetic, even if he seems just as mortified as Shiro is. He gives Shiro a quick once over, eyebrows quirking at the ornate black wedge-heeled boots on his feet.

“What-?”

“The aliens knew about Star Wars.”


End file.
